


From the Files on Wonderland

by kattahj



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Magids Series - Jones
Genre: Crossover, Dismemberment, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattahj/pseuds/kattahj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rupert wants to take Maree out on a surprise date, the quarrel they have is only the beginning of their troubles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Files on Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FiKate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiKate/gifts).



> This somehow turned into a semi-crossover, so here's to Lewis Carroll and Diana Wynne Jones, two geniuses whom I have forced into union.

**MIT directory, personal files**

 

It's probably just as well that I started Magid training right away, because it took me a couple of weeks to stop humming ”Ding Dong the Witch is Dead”. Doing that around the house would have been quite hard on poor Uncle Ted, who seems to have rather mixed feelings on Janine's death. I think even Nick mourns her a bit, though he says not.

 

Simon asked if I liked _The Wizard of Oz._ I said yes, since it was easier than explaining the whole mess. He just smiled, and didn't ask any more questions, but I suspect he knows what's going on anyway. He gives off this carefree, almost airheaded vibe, but it's deceptive.

 

And he's really not very much like Rupert at all.

 

I don't know why that should surprise me; after all, neither is Will. Nor is Simon anything like Will. It would have been interesting to meet their parents.

 

I was taken in by the whole affable and whimsical facade for about ten minutes. Then he put me to work. There's nothing quite like being up to your neck in tangled spells while you're given advice by the bloody Scarlet Pimpernel.

 

I'll say this for him, though, he does know how to make things interesting. The first day he asked me if I knew what I wanted to do as a side job. When I said I was going to be a vet, he nodded thoughtfully and said, “Animals, then.”

 

And how! I've seen more different kinds of animals and magical creatures than I could ever have dreamed of. Will's farm was just an appetizer compared to this. It's like when I was five and read my first book on Australian wildlife, only much, much more so. I don't think anything could have been more powerful in illustrating the vastness of the multiverse than seeing all those merdihoots, punkybugs and jadses. Not to mention the sphinxes, chimaeras and minotaurs – and who would have thought mymbles really existed? Do mymbles count as creatures or people, anyway? It's so very hard to tell, with those tiny faces.

 

He handed me a notebook and told me to note down how various spells worked on various creatures, which I didn't mind at all, because how could I possibly watch a pixie grow her wings and _not_ want to capture the beauty of it all?

 

I suspect all the gushing in my notes was what made Simon suggest this morning that I start a personal journal as well. Hence this file. MIT for Magid in training, as far away from Thornlady as my new life is from my life before Easter, and DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD!

 

* * *

 

Oh, hooray! Tonight I'll get to visit an animal healer at the world of Terth, which is apparently further Ayewards than any world I've been to yet. He says even with my strong talent, it's only now that he dares to take me that far. Meaning new magical creatures!

 

Rupert called and said he might stop by, so that's another thing I'm happy about. I haven't seen him in far too long.

 

* * *

 

Why oh why does Rupert have to be such an insufferable prat at the worst possible times!? I really was so happy to see him, too, looking all posh in his mac and silly cravat. He was a little out of breath after running so fast downhill (going Ayewards is really quite the ride), and trying to compose himself again – well, until I came up to him, when he settled for just picking me up and swinging me around.

 

So that part was good. And the animal healer's was amazing. When we first arrived, Simon let me wander around it for a while, seeping it all in. A baby chickcharnie took a liking to my shirt and chewed the cuff almost right off, but the poor thing was so sick and dehydrated I couldn't even mind. On the contrary, I went straight into the bathroom and cut away both cuffs entirely, making the sleeves half-length.

 

I was a bit unnerved by the flying monkeys for a moment, remembering _The Wizard of Oz_ again, but Simon just laughed at me and told me to pet them, and they really were tame as anything.

 

As for the Simurgh... oh! A dog-bird the size of a room is impressive enough on its own, especially since it shimmered in so many different shades of copper and gold that I could have stood there for hours, just watching it.

 

But then she started speaking to me, in a voice so deep and rich I was reminded of the low notes of a cello. “I am so grateful to see you, my dear Marina,” she said, sidling closer in a graceless ducklike way that didn't fit the beauty of her appearance or voice, but which was a very telltale sign of her condition. “You will give me the help with my young that I so very much need.”

 

“Of course, if I can,” I said. Having such a magnificent creature ask for my help was daunting. I glanced over at Simon.

 

“Go on, examine her,” he said.

 

So I did. I put my hand, quivering with anticipation, on her giant crest, and felt the cubs moving inside. Despite the wings and bird legs, she was a mammal, and from what I could tell close to giving birth. I palpitated her carefully, feeling out the position of each cub.

 

“Examine her properly,” Simon said in a very low, calm voice. “Like a Magid.”

 

Well, that was a different kettle of fish entirely. He'd had me examine creatures before, but the Simurgh was so large, and kind, and obviously intelligent, that I was more nervous than I had been since he first asked me to tweak the fatelines of a fieldmouse.

 

Still, I put up the spells and did my best to keep my head together as I sorted them all out, walking around her (she was just as gorgeous from the back) and trying to encase her entire frame. She closed her eyes and ruffled her feathers a bit, as if the experience was very pleasant, and that was some encouragement to me.

 

The image became clearer, and what I saw was frightening enough that I almost stopped the examination halfway through, but at the same time I had to find out if it was really true, and if I could do anything to change it.

 

There was something terribly wrong with the pregnancy. The cubs would die in the womb and quite possibly take the mother with them.

 

I finished the examination and gave the Simurgh a dismayed look. She looked back, with poised calm. “Now you've seen it,” she said. “Please, change it.”

 

“I'm not sure I can,” I said, a lump in my throat.

 

“Oh, you can.” She grinned widely in a charming doggy way that was surprisingly undignified.

 

“Of course she can,” Simon said, putting a firm hand on my shoulder. “That's what she's here for. To help.”

 

“All right, then,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Here goes.”

 

It was hard work, make no mistake. Not least of all because I could tell how much it hurt her, even though I was trying to be careful. Like Simon had taught me, I reached in further, to figure out exactly what was wrong and what changes were needed. The worst part was that I had absolutely no idea what a normal Simurgh pregnancy would look like. I ended up having to figure out the anatomy as I went along, and I felt Simon was hardly playing fair, giving me a task like this with a completely unfamiliar species. Thinking about it now, that was probably his point – as a Magid, I don't suppose you get preparation time for every challenge you're faced with.

 

In one way, though, it was actually easier than back when I tried to help my little fat Dad. The Simurgh _helped_. She actively tried to get better, and I only had to think about how helpful it would be if she leaned a certain way, or breathed deeper, or gave off a certain vibe to the cubs, for her to do it.

 

By the time the oxygen streamed through properly again and the cubs' heartrate regained what I assumed to be normality, I was sweating all over and my legs were shaking. I pushed up my specs and asked Simon, “Should I deliver them?”

 

“No, no,” both Simon and the Simurgh hurried to assure me, and the Simurgh added, “They're not ready yet for at least a week. But thank you so much for saving them.”

 

She nuzzled me with her big soft nose and stroked my back with her wing. The sensation was so lovely I sighed, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

 

Simon grinned. “Take a rest. There are a lot of creatures who'll need your help before we're done.”

 

I glared daggers at him. “You must be joking!”

 

His grin turned wider. He wasn't joking at all.

 

And it was then, during the pause before the flood, that Rupert arrived. I can't even properly describe how comfortable it was to sit down with him on a sofa, lean my head against his chest, and feel him caress my hair as I told him all about the Simurgh.

 

“It sounds brilliant,” he said. “And you did all that on your own? I'm impressed.”

 

“I've had worse days,” I admitted, trying not to sound quite as pleased with myself as I felt. Rupert's laugh vibrated through my skin.

 

He's not exactly the broad-chested and strong-armed type, Lord knows, but there are things to be said for a Magid's touch no matter how scrawny. I could feel him combing out my tangled and tattered senses, and while I was relaxing, a part of my mind noted the details of his work: _Oh, I have to try that next time._

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"Mm," I said. I could probably have gone back to work already, but I wanted to stay relaxed a little while longer. "Very, very soon."

"Good. Because I just found out Wonderland is real. They're having a festival today, and from what I've read, we don't want to miss a minute of it."

It's strange how fast things can go from very right to very wrong. I opened my eyes. “Today? What about the creatures? I still have work to do!”

 

“You can leave it to Si,” he said airily. “He's very experienced.”

 

“Yes, but I'm not. I need to learn this.”

 

“Of course – but you don't have to do it tonight.”

 

The nerve of him! I pushed my specs up to give him a good look. To make sure I hadn't misunderstood him, and that he really was expecting me to drop everything to go off on a whim with him, I asked, “So it's not important, what I do here?”

 

“Well, of course it is! But the world doesn't end if you let Si take care of things for once. He won't mind – I have years of experience handling him.”

 

“I have been free for the past _three_ weekends, yet you just waltz in while I'm working...”

 

He interrupted me: “Oh, be fair! I've been dealing with some very pressing issues!”

 

“I _see_!” I snapped. “Your Magid business is important, and mine isn't!”

 

Then he had the gall to point out that I wasn't a Magid yet. No, I told him, and I never will be if I shirk my duties. That was the end point of the discussion, really. We both said many more things, but it wasn't really what you'd call a conversation anymore, just plenty of shouting and circle arguments. In the end, I told him to leave so I could concentrate. Simon shooed him out, looking much too cheerful doing so. Honestly, there are times I wish all Venables would jump off a very high cliff. Well. That's unfair. The little V. Venables can stay. The cliff is strictly for adults.

 

I don't know if Simon's study technique with me for the rest of the night was designed to make me forget how angry I was with his brother. If so, it was moderately effective. He had me monitoring a tiny little mymble, much the way I had with the Simurgh, and then, while my work was still in motion, he said, “Good. Now take on another one.”

 

Granted, mymbles and punkybugs and the like are much smaller and less complicated than a Simurgh, but still, there were times when I must have handled a dozen different creatures at once, including that adorable little chickcharnie. It wore me straight down, but I did it! I was on the buzz of my life, leaving that world.

 

But when I came back here and saw my journal, I remembered Rupert again, so it seems in the end the anger still won out. At least now that I've written it down, maybe it's out of my system so I can get some sleep, which Lord knows I need.

 

* * *

 

**From the personal journals of Rupert Venables**

 

I could hardly believe it when I first saw the references to Wonderland in Stan's old files. While I had always suspected Charles Dodgson of being a Magid, having concrete proof was another matter entirely. My excitement rose as I kept reading. Stan was annoyingly and uncharacteristically coy about the details, in a manner that made me suspect he had found himself a lady friend in that world – or perhaps a number of lady friends, though he hardly seemed the type.

 

Even beyond that, though, my curiosity was piqued, and I kept reading in deep fascination. According to Stan, the world in question was very small, and had taken on the same biological pattern of pygmies and giants that islands sometimes do. Because of its location so far Ayewards, some of the things were pygmies  _ and _ giants.

 

Turning a few pages, I read about interdimensional chimaeras (interdimensional how?), the court of the Prophetic Shah, and of a person very clearly the inspiration for the Queen of Hearts. Once again Stan left out the details, though he mentioned her faiblesse for grand parties.

 

By the end of my read, I missed Stan more than ever, and was determined to journey to Wonderland at the first possible opportunity. My calendar confirmed that one of the Queen's traditional festivals was coming up a few days later. I had been up to my neck in Magid work for the past weeks, but I found that if I juggled my schedule just right I could take some days off for Wonderland. It would be a nice surprise for Maree too, I thought; I hadn't been able to see her in much too long. The only thing that worried me was that perhaps Si wouldn't let her off, but then, he wasn't usually uptight about those things.

 

I should have worried about Maree instead. Unfortunately, I had completely miscalculated her reaction. Instead of being pleased for a break in her training sessions, she acted as if I had questioned her very choice of career. Which is ridiculous, considering that it's my choice of career too. She can be infuriatingly stubborn sometimes, and she was determined to attribute me with the worst possible motives! I tried to explain to her that she could finish her session at some other time, but it was like speaking to a wall. I don't know what Si has been telling her, to make her so averse to leaving her post. He didn't seem to mind my wanting to take her off, though he certainly didn't do anything to help either.

 

In the end, though it didn't sit right with me, I had to admit defeat and leave.

 

* * *

 

I couldn't sleep that night, the fight still looming over me. As soon as the sun rose, I got dressed and started travelling back Ayewards, to Si's.

 

Zinka was the one to open the door, and she leaned back, arms crossed over her ample chest, round eyes narrowing in thought. “You're here early. Did you ever do that for me? I don't think you did.”

 

“Why, are you jealous?”

 

“Dreadfully,” she said, her tone as dry as mine. “I don't think Si's ever done that either.”

 

I frowned. “You're not _really_ jealous, are you?”

 

“I'm trying to determine whether it's a you thing, or a madly in love thing, or perhaps a Maree thing.”

 

“Is she still angry with me?” I blurted out.

 

“Last I looked, she was still asleep. Would you like some breakfast? Or a cup of coffee, at least?”

 

“Please.”

  
Zinka gathered her robes together and took me into the kitchen, where Si was frying eggs.

 

“Hello, Rupe!” he said cheerfully. “You're here early.”

 

“We were just discussing that,” Zinka said. “You never did that for me, did you?”

 

“I'm much too fond of long breakfasts.”

 

“Hm. Not a romantic bone in your body.”

 

I sank down on a chair with a cup of coffee, waiting for Maree while the other two continued their ribbing. It was strange to see their display of domestic bliss. I wondered if my brother had any idea just how closely I'd once known Zinka. Not that I wished things had turned out differently. All I wanted was for Maree to walk through that door.

 

Which she did about ten minutes later, in green flannel pyjamas and her glasses halfway down her nose. Seeing me, she brightened for a second, only to turn gloomy again, but that brief glimpse told me plenty.

 

“Are you still angry?” I asked, knowing that she wasn't.

 

“Are you going to be an arse?” she countered.

 

“I'll try not to be. Will you come with me to Wonderland?” We'd only catch the tail end of the festival, but the world itself was an exciting prospect too.

 

She rolled her eyes, then grinned. “Yes. All right. I will.”

 

“Good.” I grinned back, pleased with the world again. “I'm glad you changed your mind.”

 

The moment I'd spoken, I knew from her expression that it was the wrong thing to say. She wrinkled her nose and pushed up her glasses at me. “Changed my mind?”

 

“Well, yes. Didn't you?”

 

“It's morning. I'm no longer working. It doesn't make yesterday's work any less important.”

 

“Listen, I _know_ it's important. I've never said that it wasn't. All I said was that it could be taken care of at some other time.”

 

“What about the creatures?” she challenged.

 

“I understand that you felt responsible for them. Of course you did. It shows good Magid instincts. But believe me, Si could have handled it, couldn't you, Si?”

 

“No comment,” said Si with a grin, eating his eggs.

 

“Anyway,” I continued, “there'll never be any shortage of sick creatures.”

 

She crossed her arms. “There'll never be any shortage of world leaders mucking up and calling for your attention, either.”

 

“Oh, be fair! There are some very serious world crises going on!”

 

“No, no, I get it,” she said. “You're irreplaceable. I'm not. Now, _if_ you'll excuse me, I'll go take a shower.”

 

With that, she turned on her heels, looking as regal as if she'd been wearing Zinka's robes rather than flannel pyjamas, and marched back out of the kitchen.

 

“Maree!” I protested and contemplated running after her, but since I had no idea where I'd gone wrong or how to set it right, there didn't seem to be much point. Instead, I gave Si and Zinka a helpless look.

 

Si was laughing into his napkin, his face red and the laughter interrupted by little coughs. Zinka just sighed. “For crying out loud, Rupert.”

 

“Leave him alone!” Si said between the coughs. “That was brilliant! You have reached a new height of bloke failure.”

 

“Oh, do shut up,” I said. Si can really be insufferably big-brotherly sometimes. “What am I supposed to do?”

 

“Apologise,” he said.

 

“For what?”

 

“I don't know. Anything. First rule of women, apologise even if you've done nothing wrong.”

 

“Speaking of bloke failure!” Zinka said, glaring at him. “Don't listen to him, he's an idiot.”

 

“So I shouldn't apologise, then?”

 

“Of course you should. She hasn't seen head or tail of you for almost a month!”

 

Considering that I'd spent the past month narrowly averting a political catastrophe in the Atlantean seaworld, I found Zinka's assessment more than a little unfair, and told her so. “I can't just drop everything for her!”

 

“Right,” she said, crossing her arms just like Maree had before.

 

There was some kind of clue I was missing. I thought back on the conversation, found it, and sighed. “Bloody hell. I should have asked her in advance, shouldn't I?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Or at least not have argued when she turned me down. All right. I'd better go and talk to her.”

 

“She's in the shower,” Si pointed out.

 

I waved the objection away, and heard him calling, “What about your coffee?” as I headed down to the corridor to the bathroom.

 

The door was locked, obviously, so I waited outside, listening to the sounds of washing. It wasn't a jolly, singing-to-the-tiles sort of shower, that much I could tell.

 

Finally, the sounds ended and she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping wet. She stopped short upon seeing me and gave me as good a glare as she could without her glasses.

 

“I'm sorry,” I said.

 

“For what?” she asked suspiciously.

 

“For treating you like you're at my beck and call.”

 

Her tiny smile told me I'd hit the target. “All right.” She stood in silence for a moment, making patterns in the carpet with her toe, and then said, “I guess I shouldn't have treated you like an intrusion. So I'm sorry too. Wonderland seems like a lovely idea.”

 

“Yes!” I hugged her. “Shall we leave right now?”

 

“Breakfast would be nice,” she pointed out. “And clothes.”

 

“Right. Both of those things. Absolutely.”

 

The kitchen was ever so much more pleasant when the two of us weren't fighting, and we spent breakfast discussing Wonderland, theorising about what it might be like.

 

Zinka and Si mostly listened, until Si suddenly stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth. “Hang on,” he said, “what world is this exactly?”

 

I told him the directions I'd got from Stan's journal, and he exchanged a glance with Zinka. “And you plan to go to the Queen's court?”

 

I could tell from his tone and both of their expressions that something was wrong. “Yes, that's where the festival is held.” Even if most of it was over by now; but I didn't say that.

 

“You haven't considered, maybe, a more equatorial area? The countries of the rivalling shahs, for instance? The Prophetic Shah might send you out on some quest, of course, but it could be worse.”

 

“What's wrong with the Queen's court?” Maree asked. “Is it dangerous or something?”

 

“Not exactly dangerous,” Si said, his colour rising. By now, he looked both uncomfortable and highly amused. “Not quite Rupert's cup of tea, perhaps. Especially with a girlfriend.”

 

Zinka was the one who took pity on us and spoke clearly. “Some people there – the Queen included – _really_ like Magids, that's all. So my darling husband is worried for your virtue. Just stay undercover and you'll be fine.”

 

I was a little taken aback, but Maree gave a wry smile. “Well! Is that the sort of field trip you have planned for me?”

 

“I didn't mean to...”

 

“Oh, relax,” she said. “We have to go now. If nothing else, then to find out what on earth Lewis Carroll was thinking, to make a children's book of that.”

 

In retrospect, we should probably have given more thought to the aspects of the Queen of Hearts that _hadn't_ been censored from the book.

 

* * *

 

The first impression of the world was of darkness – we had stepped into a long, dark corridor, sloping downwards. Though it was not quite a rabbit-hole, the simile was hardly far-fetched. As our eyes got used to the dim light, however, I could make out strange ornaments along the wall, and further down, moving shadows beyond several obscure glass doors.

 

“Come on,” Maree said, dragging me along, and I followed, trying to get a good view of everything.

 

It was a temple of some sort, or a library, or maybe both at once, and it was designed in such a way as to make it grow and diminish by turns. Quite dizzy-making and not very hospitable to strangers, but I could use my Magid strengths to wrangle the protection aside enough for us to carry on without bumping our heads.

 

“Is that an ocean outside?” Maree asked, peering through the dark bubbly glass of the nearest door., where water splashed against the surface. “I think it is.” She threw a glance over her shoulder at the matching door on the other wall. “And some mountains. That's odd.”

 

The comment made me suspicious, and I walked up to the next door in line. “Here it's a garden.”

 

My eyes met hers.

 

“Portals?” she asked.

 

“Seems like it.”

 

“To other worlds?”

 

I certainly hoped not. Apart from the powerful magic it would require, I didn't like the thought of being truly lost. Tentatively, I felt the air around me, and relaxed. “No. Parts of this world.”

 

She ran the palm of her hand gently over the nearest door. “So where to, then?”

 

“The mountains?” I suggested. I couldn't recall any mountains in either _Alice_, and was curious to see what else this world held.

 

“What about the Queen's court?”

 

There was that. If we wanted to see anything at all of the festival, we didn't have much time. I looked out at the ocean. Quite possibly it was the sea of tears, but even so, I didn't particularly feel like submerging myself in it.

 

“All right, garden first, then mountain.”

 

She nodded and moved ahead, trying the handle for the garden door, but it was locked. “Any golden key or little bottle around?” she joked.

 

I shuddered at the thought of 'shutting up like a telescope' – but fortunately, the locks weren't very complicated, and I could use some of the more dubious tricks that we brothers had concocted together in our training days, to finagle our way out..

 

Maree gave a long, trembling sigh when the door slid aside and we had a good look at the flowers. I felt much like doing the same. Though a remote part of my brain reminded me that giant flowers were from the chess boards of _Looking Glass_ and not near the Queen's court at all, it was almost completely drowned by feelings of sheer awe.

 

They were seven to nine feet tall, in every colour imaginable, and their swaying had less to do with the wind's movements than with what could only be called dancing. As we stepped out among them, they spread out their leaves and petals, almost covering the sky, dancing around us.

 

That they were sentient was indubitable, but if their dance was a language, it was one I couldn't understand. We walked through the garden, smiling, trying to project our benign well-wishes. After a few paces, Maree began dancing too, bobbing her short legs and letting her long hair fly.

 

“Come on!” she shouted to me. “Dance! It's fun!”

 

I very much doubted it, but the flowers kept swarming around me, and Maree looked so happy dancing among them that I finally, with some hesitation, followed her lead.

 

Soon, the embarrassment fled. Whatever we were telling the flowers, they seemed to like it. They bent their crowns and nudged us softly with their leaves, this way and that, and we followed.

 

Halfway through, the experience was marred by some sort of creatures I kept glimpsing by the horizon. My first impression was that they were dragons; then, as the flowers grew more sparse and I had a better look, dog-faced maggots. I had just determined that they were elephant-sized caterpillars when one of them opened its mouth and breathed out a spurt of flame.

 

“What are those?” Maree asked, sounding curious rather than appalled.

 

“I think,” I said slowly, “maybe dragon... caterpillars?”

 

“Dragonpillars!” she said and laughed. “Dragons as _insects_. Oh! The dragonflies!”

 

We both laughed, and I stepped closer to her as we approached the dragonpillars. Despite their firey breath, they appeared to be benign, but I took no chances, and kept my eye steadily on them – causing me to bump into and almost step on a very small, pale fellow in some sort of grey ceremonial robes.

 

“Oh, I beg your pardon!” I said.

 

“Quite all right, quite all right,” he squeaked, his gaze darting around nervously. “Enjoying the scenery? It's certainly beautiful enough. Er, you haven't seen any knights, have you? Or chariots, for that matter?”

 

“We've only seen the flowers,” Maree said. “And the dragon... things.”

 

The man, if that was what he was, relaxed visibly. “Ah yes, lovely. And no men of the heart either, I take it?”

 

“Then this is the Queen's country after all?” I asked. “We thought we might be in the wrong boo... country.”

 

“It's the very borders of it,” he said. “Here for the festival are you? You just might make it to the fireworks, by train if nothing else – though if I were you I'd start growing sooner rather than later.”

 

“Are you quite all right?” Maree asked, since the man was still looking around wildly. “Is someone chasing you?”

 

He jumped at the suggestion and started chewing on his lip. “Is it that obvious? Oh dear, oh dear me. I crossed the borders, which really I shouldn't, but I felt I'd be safer here. Somewhat safer, anyway.” He bent in closer and hissed. “They have an extradition treaty, you see.”

 

“But what have you done?” I asked.

 

“Nothing yet. It's one of them prophecies. You know what they're like. Or maybe you don't, being a tourist and all. It's about what I will do if they don't stop it.”

 

He gave a sudden squeak and dived headfirst into the tall grass, looking for all the world like a lumpy rock. Maree and I turned, at first seeing nothing – until two reddish men on cat-sized horses showed up among the flowers.

 

“He's not here!” one of them yelled.

 

“He was here a minute ago!”

 

“Well, he's not now! There's just the bloody large jungle and...” He spotted us. “Hang on, there's some peculiar people with him!”

 

They rode closer, looking at us with suspicion.

 

“Who are you then?” said the one who had seen us first.

 

“Oh, you know, just tourists,” I said. Though they only reached me to the waist, even on horseback, they looked fierce.

 

The other one kicked around the dirt on the ground and found they grey man-lump. “What have we here?” he said, pulling the man up in his robes. “That's what I thought. Bishop of Fou, we hereby arrest you for the vile and terrible crimes you are about to commit, and judge you by the Shah's order to perish in prison for the foreseeable future.”

 

“That's not fair!” Maree protested. “He hasn't done anything!”

 

The bishop squealed in fear and shut his eyes. Now, the world wasn't under my jurisdiction, but I couldn't very well just stand there and watch them take an innocent man to prison. I quickly did a working to wrap the bishop in protections and take him away. To my dismay, it bounced against something else. It seemed these knights had magic of their own.

 

Both knights turned at once and stared at me. “Consort!” one said. “What _are_ you doing so far from the Queen?”

 

More people showed up and babbled excitably, insisting that we come with them to the Queen right away. The thought of leaving right there and then did occur to me, but it seemed hard on the bishop – and anyway, I _was_ curious of the Queen's court. Not least of all to find why everyone was suddeny treating us like something between celebrities and possessions.

 

So much for anonymity.

 

* * *

 

By taking turns in appearing very large and very little, the soldiers brought us to the train station and brought us aboard the train. The train station was my first clue that time had not stood still in Wonderland since the days of _Alice_. Instead of old-fashioned steam engines, there were sleek, high-speed electrical trains, more modern even than the British railways.

 

The seats were very comfortable, and we sank down in some relief. A relief that lasted only a few minutes before something started niggling at the back of my brain. I felt around, and realized to my horror that the train was warded. We could no longer leave.

 

Maree had noticed it too, and gave me a glance that clearly said, 'Well, this is a fine mess you've put us in.' I was glad that she resisted the temptation to say it out loud. Instead, she said, “What shall we do about the bishop, then?”

 

I stretched my neck, looking at the people down the corridor. “We'd have to get past everyone – and they're blocking our magic. I'm not sure there's anything we can do.”

 

“Would they really imprison people for things that might happen?”

 

“They did a hundred years ago..” I fell silent as the knights came towards us, joined by some sort of courtiers in lavish costumes.

 

Though apparently prisoners, we were still treated rather like honoured guests. We were handed over to the courtiers, one of whom was soon traipsing over to us with a tray of pastries and two cups of cocoa.

 

“Are you quite well?” he asked. “Good. I do apologize for the hurry; a consort abetting a known terrorist is bound to make diplomatic relations a little tense.”

 

“I'm not a consort,” I protested, just as Maree said, “Is he really a terrorist? He said he was innocent.”

 

The courtier chose to reply to Maree first. “Well, he's innocent from the perspective of the _past_. But the Shah is very clear regarding his _future_, so the Queens have all ordered his arrest.”

 

“What if they're wrong!?”

 

“I don't set policy, I follow it.” He leaned in closer and tried to force a friendly smile onto his naturally gloomy face. “I suggest you do the same, or the Queen will be very upset. She doesn't like her consorts to interfere with national relations. Stroves?” He grabbed the tongs with his long fingers.

 

“I'm not a consort,” I repeated, feeling quite irritated with the man. I started tugging at the wards, trying to get them down enough for Maree and myself to leave. I could feel a large knot of wards further down the train, and figured it was where they kept the bishop, but it might be out of my reach. Better to get the two of us out of there than no one at all.

 

For a moment, the courtier looked worried. “The knights claimed that you were using consort power to help the bishop... as you are right now,” he added, his gaze falling on my discreet spell-working. The worry disappeared from his face. “Shame on you for lying.”

 

“I'm not lying! There has to be some mistake, we're not even from this world.”

 

“They rarely are. Ah! This is your first visit? Then I doubly apologize. You will like it much better once we reach the castle, I'm sure. Do have a strove.” He filled our plates with pastries and sauntered away.

 

“I'm _not_...” I remembered Zinka's warning and let my head fall back against the wall. “Blast. I probably am.”

 

“I'm so sorry,” Maree said in a strange sort of choked voice, very clearly trying not to laugh.

 

She was probably imagining Tenniel's Queen of Hearts in an amorous mood... or worse, Disney's. _I_ spent most of the journey imagining the Queen of Hearts in an amorous mood, racking my brain about ways to escape the wards. It was no good – I could extend them, slightly, but not break them, and any other working I did just slid right off. Perhaps, I suggested to Maree, the Queen could be reasoned with, but we both agreed that it was not likely. Carroll's testimony aside, anyone who declared Magids as a collective her consorts could hardly be considered reasonable.

 

I hadn't drawn the obvious conclusion: that if the trains weren't the same as a hundred years ago, the Queen wouldn't be either.

 

When the train arrived at the castle, we were prodded – ever so politely – through hallways and gardens, people running this way and that to find the Queen.

 

Her eventual arrival made my jaw drop. We were in an inner garden, with flowers so small they gave the appearance of a multicoloured carpet. Overhead, the fireworks had just started, spinning impressive patterns of colours into the sky. She strode towards us, one page on each side. Her clothes were no more elaborate than her courtiers', but there was no mistaking her for anyone but the Queen.

 

And she was beautiful. Her hair and lips were a colour between fire and scarlet, while the smooth skin held a pale orange shade. She was tall and willowy with flowing hair, and briefly, I have to admit, her appearance mesmerized me so that I was willing to do anything she wanted me to.

 

But then she came closer, and the stench of bad magic was so strong that I had to fight an urge to retch.

 

“Welcome,” she said, smiling at me, but as smiles went, it was anything but comforting. “You have a very fine taste in clothes.”

 

“I... thank you,” I said, somewhat caught off guard.

 

She raised a hand, and I could feel her tugging at the center of my being. I fought her off instinctively, and was quite surprised that the defence worked, cutting through her power. Quite by accident, I'd found an angle that worked.

 

Her eyes narrowed and her efforts to hold me intensed, though I could still feel myself breaking through. “Interesting. I think you will be a most pleasant consort.”

 

“I really have to decline,” I said. “You see, I'm engaged to be married.”

 

“That's right,” Maree said, a slight quiver in her voice.

 

The queen looked at Maree with distaste and then waved her away. “To this thing? Leave her. She is small and ungainly.”

 

“No.”

 

“_Leave_ her.”

 

“Your majesty, I will not.” Especially not for a foul-smelling witch, but I didn't say so.

 

The Queen sighed and snapped her long fingers. “You there!” she called an armed courtier. “Take off her head!”

 

I spun around, straining twice as hard to break the spells and get to Maree. The Queen strengthened her own, both to stop us from leaving and to help the sword reach it mark. I had to aim my attack at a weak spot, break the spells in some manner she wasn't expecting.

 

And so, just before the sword stroke fell, I did the only working I could think of.

 

Life.

 

* * *

 

**MIT directory, personal files**

 

Well, if our ordeals are supposed to make us wiser, I must be a great source of wisdom after this one! I woke up on a cold, hard floor, surprised and relieved to still be alive. I had stopped finding any humour in the situation once that Queen showed up – far too much like Janine if you ask me – and when that bloke started waving his sword around, I thought I'd be dead within seconds.

 

A cold floor seemed quite nice in comparison.

 

“Maree?” Rupert's worried face moved into view. It was strangely fuzzy, and I realised that I wasn't wearing my glasses. I started moving my head to look for them, but Rupert caught my chin in his hand and stopped me. “Try not to move, darling. I've called for Simon, we'll try to sort this out.”

 

Something had felt terribly wrong when I did move. “What's going on?”

 

He hesitated, which did nothing to ease my fears. I hate it when people won't tell you straight about things that are going to hurt or be unpleasant in some way.

 

“Rupert? _What's going on?_”

 

Maybe I was shouting, I don't know. In any case, a strange, toothy face popped through the wall. I screamed and sat up automatically.

 

Well. Something sat up. Something that clearly wasn't me, because _I_ was still on the floor, and the thing sitting up didn't have a head.

 

It did, however, have my shape, arms, and clothes. I screamed harder, as hard as I ever had in my life, and Rupert hurried to put a hand over my face. “Sshh, try to be calm. They think you're dead, you _have_ to stay quiet, please, can you do that?”

 

I have to admit that the sound I made was more a whimper than anything else. In my defence, my body was still sitting up in front of me.

 

The face in the wall stepped forward, revealing a lank, furry and leopard-spotted, yet bipedal, creature.

 

“Why _isn't_ she dead?” the leopard-man asked, peering down on me.

 

“I've bespelled her.” Rupert slowly removed his hand. “Don't worry, we'll get you back together. We'll find a way. All right? I'm sure we can do it.” He didn't sound very sure at all.

 

“It doesn't _work_ that way,” I hissed. I couldn't stand looking at the monstrosity before me, and so I scrambled to lie back down, which is harder than you'd think when the head is already on the floor. Rupert helped ease my body down, and having it stretched out under my head, I could almost believe they were still stuck together. I could still feel it all, for one thing. But if there's one thing I know about anatomy, it's that a detached head can't be reattached again. The strange thought occurred to me that I was the Humpty Dumpty of this narrative – and I desperately didn't want to be.

 

The leopard man peered at me. He had altogether too many teeth, giving him a mad, grinning appearance. “I've never seen anything like it.”

 

“You won't tell the Queen, will you?” Rupert pleaded of him, stroking my hair as he spoke, as if I'd been a scared dog. And I don't suppose the difference was all that great right then.

 

“Who, me?” His mouth widened even further. “Mum's the word, I swear.”

 

“Thank you. We're in enough trouble as it is.”

 

“_We're_ in trouble?” I snapped, feeling tears forming in my eyes. “I'm the one in pieces!”

 

“I know. I'm sorry. It's just that...” He glanced towards the door I could vaguely spot at the end of the room. “I've only been given an hour to mourn.”

 

I caught on, and found that I could still get a sinking feeling to my stomach. “Oh, God! She's still expecting you to be her consort?”

 

His unhappy expression confirmed my suspicion.

 

“That mad bitch!”

 

“Sshh, yes, but calm down, please! We will get you better, darling. I know this seems bad, but remember, you were stripped once and you survived that. Which is a lot more unlikely than this, really.”

 

“I don't think I can go to Babylon in this condition,” I replied. “Not unless you want to tie a scarf around my head like in _The Juniper Tree_.”

 

He paled at the thought, and I had much the same reaction when actually thinking about what would happen if such a scarf loosened at the wrong moment. My stomach made another flip, which turned my thoughts to what would happen if I got sick. That was something I really shouldn't have been thinking. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, hoping to fight the feeling off.

 

“So what do we do?” I asked.

 

“I...”

 

“Please don't tell me you don't know.”

 

“All right.” It was very clear he didn't. “You need to... um... for starters, you need to think of yourself as whole. Tell yourself that your body does fit together.”

 

I opened my eyes just so I could glare at him. “I think there's a limit to how far the placebo effect goes.”

 

“I'm not sure there is, for us.”

 

That was a very good point. I had to think like a Magid. The trouble was, I had no idea how to start, and Rupert seemed much to distraught to help me.

 

“Is there anything else you need?” the leopard man, getting ready to step through the wall again. “I'm supposed to be checking on you, so if there's something you want me to tell the Queen...”

 

The things I wanted to tell the Queen were legion and four-lettered, but I was supposed to be dead, so I couldn't.

 

“Just tell her I'm praying,” Rupert said quietly.

 

And I don't think that was even a lie.

 

* * *

 

It's strange how a mere glimpse of a crimson robe can make you feel better. My eyes widened, trying to take in as much of the room as possible, and then Rupert said “Zinka!” and I grinned. Few people have the same soothing effect that Zinka has. For the past ten minutes, as Rupert and I had tried a variety of spells, he had been telling me over and over again that everything would be all right. Only now did I dare believe it.

 

“I thought Si was coming,” Rupert said, sounding more bewildered than actually complaining.

 

“No, just me.” She sank down on her knees next to me, her kind, plump face concerned... professionally concerned, I suppose you could say. I had a feeling her next move would be to ask me to reach out my tongue and say aah. But she didn't. Instead she asked, “How are you holding up, love?”

 

“I'd like to say I'm in one piece,” I said wryly, “but...”

 

She smiled. “We'll get you there.” I could feel her reaching out, touching my center – which also meant I became acutely aware of Rupert's spell on my body and how it was the only thing keeping me alive.

 

“Not a bad start,” she said. “But Maree, you have to start working to put yourself together.”

 

“Yes, please,” I said. “How!?”

 

“Well, for starters – think!”

 

“Oh, not you too.” I said. “I can't just will myself better!”

 

“I'm not talking about the Coué method. Healing's your forte. Do what you did yesterday. Heal.”

 

My protest died away as I contemplated what she'd said. I'd accomplished some things the day before that I don't think I ever could have done as a vet, not least of all helping several creatures at once. I concentrated, trying to think of my body as a mass of nerves and muscles and bone. Still, I kept being interrupted by the thought that heads just_ can't _be reattached to bodies, and I told her so.

 

“Says who?” she said. “All that means is that medicine hasn't found a way – but you're not using medicine. Don't be bogged down by old prejudice. Starfish can be cut in half and then grow into two whole starfish.”

 

“I don't want to be two Marees,” I said. The strangeness of examinating my own messed-up anatomy was making me dizzy. “I just want to be me.”

 

“Think of the water bears, then,” Rupert chimed in, taking my hand. “They can survive radiation, and deep-freezing, and vacuum. You're stronger than a little water bear.”

 

I wanted to point out that humans aren't the same as tardigrades, but then, Magids aren't exactly the same as ordinary humans, either. And so I took a deep breath, reminding myself that the fact that I could breathe at all was proof that anything was possible.

 

I started with the spinal cord, since it is without a doubt the most difficult part to heal. I figured if I could manage that, there was good hope for the rest, while if I couldn't, there was no point in wasting good farewell time bothering with little things like skin and blood vessels. Neither Rupert nor Zinka made any pretense of what would happen with me if we failed to put me back together.

 

Nerves are tricky business and there were ever so many of them. I sorted them out as well as I could, wishing I'd studied human anatomy along with the animals.

 

“Maree?” Rupert said after a while, just as I finished the nerves and moved on to the meninges.

 

“Sshh,” said I, working on the pia mater.

 

“Don't hurry her,” said Zinka.

 

“I may have to. We only have an hour, and there's not much time left.”

 

“No, there's not much time left for one of us. I think I should be the one to leave. You can stay here with Maree – it's all going so well, you don't need me.”

 

I stopped working and stared at her. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

 

She shrugged.

 

Rupert looked about ready to shake her. “Do you actually mean to oblige the Queen?”

 

“It's easier that way.”

 

“She's a dictatorial lunatic!”

 

“Yes,” Zinka said, in that matter-of-fact tone of hers, which for the first time I found a little grating. “But as I'm sure you've noticed, she's a_ gorgeous_ dictatorial lunatic. And she's usually not much trouble as long as she has her way.”

 

I ask you! And this from a married woman. But she was fighting to save my life, so I didn't say anything.

 

“You can't possibly!” Rupert said.

 

“I can't possibly not! We need more than an hour.”

 

So that was what she did. When some guard came to take Rupert away just as I finished the bones, Zinka got up instead, explaining that Rupert had called in a replacement to give him more time to mourn.

 

“Well, I'll have to ask the Queen...” the guard started.

 

Unfortunately, though I was trying to play dead, the thought made me grimace, and he halted.

 

“Is she _alive_?”

 

“It's a cultural thing, I'm sure you understand,” Zinka said congenially. “The thing is – you know and I know that the Queen wants the very best. Right now, Rupert is not at his best. She deserves better; she deserves me. Has she been reading the book I gave her?”

 

“I don't...”

 

“Oh, I hope that she has. Otherwise I might have to punish her... but then, she might have to punish me.”

 

The guard gulped audibly, and Zinka told him, “Let's go.”

 

After the door closed around them, I opened my eyes and saw Rupert shaking his head. “I don't know whether to bless her or curse her,” he said.

 

“A little bit of both?” I suggested. “She's going through quite some trouble to help us out, but then, she and Si could have warned us better.”

 

He laughed, tears in his voice. “They really could have.”

 

His glasses had slid down almost as badly as mine do. I reached up to push them back.

 

“I'm so sorry,” he said. “I wanted to show you something beautiful, and it ended like this.”

 

“Doesn't it always?” I asked. “The flowers were beautiful. And the dragonpillars, in a way. And that leopard-man.”

 

“The chimaera?”

 

“Is that what he was? Well, he was sort of terrifyingly beautiful. With those billion teeth.”

 

“Now I feel inadequately teethed,” he said with a gloomy attempt at humour.

 

“Considering if I get out of here I'm _never ever_ coming back...” I'd forgotten myself and moved my head too much. It hurt – but then, that was a good sign, really.

 

Rupert took hold of my chin. “Are you ready to go on?”

 

I would have nodded, but that wasn't an option. “Time for the muscles,” I said instead.

 

* * *

 

After muscles, I worked on skin, then blood vessels, saving the peripheral nerves for last. My job with the veins was interrupted when the Queen slammed the door open, Zinka sidling up next to her.

 

“Conspiring to trick me, I see,” said the Queen, but she didn't sound angry. Even from my position on the floor, I could see the faint peach blush on cheeks, and Zinka looked downright dishevelled.

 

“Your majesty,” Rupert said, standing up.

 

“Enough! My day has been satisfactory, but don't try this again. Next time, you serve your duties. Now leave.”

 

With that, she lifted the wards off the room and glared at us.

 

I wasn't anywhere near finished, and both Rupert and Zinka tried to tell her that, but there wasn't much use. In the end, they put me in stasis and got me home.

 

So here I am, back in my own bed and everything finally finished. Simon's tiptoeing around Zinka like he's ashamed for staying home, which maybe he should be, but then, I can't say I really blame him.

 

Rupert's spell is wearing off, which means I'm noticing certain kinks in my work – I have a horrible crick in my neck, and my voice sounds strange. But it could have been a lot worse; I'm sure I can fix these things in time.

 

He was here just now with two tickets to _God in Disguise_. A very mundane kind of date, I'm sure, but I say bring on mundaneity! (Mundanity? Is this even a word?) It'll make for a nice change.

 

Tomorrow I'll start learning defence magic.


End file.
